


Syssitia

by Ars_Arpadok



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ars_Arpadok/pseuds/Ars_Arpadok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kal wakes up in a strange and not entirely unpleasant predicament</p>
            </blockquote>





	Syssitia

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this ages and ages ago. Just manged to get off my butt and put it up here. Enjoy!
> 
> This piece has slashy overtones. There's no description of the actual act or anything leading up to it but you get the picture. If you don't like this sort of thing please don't waste your time reading any farther and/or getting your panties in a twist over it. I'm not going to care if you do hate it or if you decide to tell me so. 
> 
> The story was inspired by the following comment made on the boards about the speculative plot of Imperial Commando II.   
> "Skirata gets frozen in carbonite and Vau promises Jusik and Co. they'll go after him.   
> Vau: I love you   
> Skirata: I know."
> 
> I laughed so hard I broke out in a sweat thinking about that scenario. Also, since we're never getting the resolution of the second book I couldn't resist writing this strange, twisted thing. As always I am making no money off of this. It is written and posted here purely for my own amusement

**623 days before Geonosis**

Skirata woke up flat on his back, drool crusting along the left side of his face. His first thought was that someone had knocked him unconscious. He ached in several odd places and his head seemed about to pound itself apart. That notion was shattered as soon as he managed to fully open his eyes. He was in his bed. What the shab was he doing in his bed? He jerked upright and was immediately forced to grab the sides of the mattress; hanging his head near his knees.

He really should air this room out, it smelled like wet wool and mold. He tried to remember what he had left out and forgotten that could be the source of the deeply unpleasant odor. It would come to him eventually. For the moment he needed to get his shebs up and back to work. He'd let his boys down enough for one day; allowing himself to sleep in a bed.

When he finally managed to lurch to his feet though another, more pressing issue presented itself. He would get to his boys immediately after he visited the 'fresher. He turned left toward the door to the en suite and nearly walked into a blank wall. He swore in three different languages. What had happened that he was so disoriented? He tried to shake his head clear when his eyes suddenly fixed on something deeply disturbing. A tidy pile of armor laid in the opposite corner to where he usually stacked his; a tidy pile of black armor. Total panic finally cleared his head. The widow showed a different grey stormscape through the driving, perpetual rain. He had could not have said what exactly about it was unlike the one from his quarters; he just knew with a sick certainty. The bed was slightly longer and placed more to the right of the door than his, the weave of the grey carpet was novel to his feet. The 'fresher was on the other side of the room. He could hear water running behind its closed door.

Skirata felt every muscle in his lower abdomen clench involuntarily as a clammy sweat broke out all over his exposed chest. He could feel droplets beading on the stubble of his upper lip and along his hairline. Had he been a religious man he would have prayed. As it was he was more concerned with making good his escape before the 'fresher's occupant finished. A goal made all the more difficult by the fact that he seemed to have misplaced all of his clothing.

He cast his eyes wildly around the room looking for any scrap with which to cover enough of his body for a wild dash to his quarters. He found a pair of supple black pants and yanked them up his legs and over his backside just as the door to the 'fresher opened. He spun, wishing he had his three-sided knife, and dropped into a fighter's crouch as Walon Vau entered the room.

The tall man slowly stopped rubbing his short hair with a small towel and glared evilly at Skirata.

-It is comforting to see you suffering from so few ill effects from last night. I'm afraid my tolerance for tihaar is somewhat less…developed than yours. I am in no mood to beat you Skirata.

This being said, Vau went back to drying his head and shoulders, seating himself rather stiffly onto the bed as he did so. Skirata straightened and relaxed slightly. Vau didn't appear to be inclined to stop him leaving but the man was between him and the door. That and the fact that he had no idea where Mird was did very little to ease his adrenaline flooded nerves.

He began to edge slowly along the wall, trying to keep his eyes on the door, Vau and watch for the currently absent Mird as well. The lanky man still made no move to stop him. He just sat, apparently lost in thought with his hair-drying towel draped across his shoulders. Skirata was half way to the door. He nearly bolted when Vau stood. Only his pride kept him from running away from the other man like a naughty child. That and he felt his eyes stick in their sockets as Vau stretched, the long muscles of his torso contracting and lengthening hypnotically, the towel he had wrapped around his waist loosening; threatening to slide off of the thin hips.

Why were the shabla pants so tight? What was he doing here in the first place? His brain made the obvious connections and Skirata felt faint for the first time in his life. He leaned against the wall heavily and scrubbed both hands over his face. Vau noticed his discomfort, of course the unimaginable chakaar noticed, and took a step toward him. Skirata snarled like a cornered Gundark.

-Last night we…got haryc b'aalyc…and… His throat closed around the words.

Vau seemed to have no such problem, however.

-I thought that much was obvious di'kut. It's not as though something like this has never happened before.

-Not with you! He wasn't looking at Vau but he thought he could hear the man rolling his eyes heavenward.

-It could have been worse− Skirata barked out a disbelieving sound that feel somewhere between choking and laughter.

The other man continued, unfazed.

-It could have been Priest. Skirata did manage a laugh then, albeit a pained one. He could hear the wicked smile in Vau's voice as well.

-Or Fett. He was technically correct. It would have been much, much more awkward if he had woken up with Fett and he would probably never have woken up at all if it had been Priest. That didn't make having this happen with Vau a great deal less awkward. After all if he really had been suffering from the periodic loneliness of a long campaign he could have turned to Bralor or Tay'haai or even Gilamar. What had possessed him to fuck Vau?

Another thought occurred to him and he turned to fully stare at his despised fellow Sergeant, confused and worried.

-What exactly made you want to…with me ner vod?

The smirk disappeared from Vau's face like it had never been there. He glowered fiercely at the floor, as though he might intimidate it into giving him an answer. When he did finally speak his voice was much softer than Kal could ever recall hearing before, almost gentle in fact. It was disturbing.

-Tihaar can do strange things to a man…and…well−

The door chime sounded, making both men flinch. Skirata felt the shamed panic of earlier return with a vengeance. Vau motioned for him to stay put before calling for whomever was on the other side of the door to give him a moment. Skirata actually withdrew a bit further from the bedroom door, not letting himself think too hard about his sudden desire not to make good his escape while the other man was distracted looking for some clothing other than that very enticing towel.

Skirata slapped that thought back into the darkest pit of his mind it had crawled out of. After a few seconds of cursing and shifting through drawers Vau was dressed in the form fitting shirt and pants that went under the blast dampening fabric of their armor. Once again Skirata found himself having to brutally stamp down unwelcome thoughts about the way that fabric clung to those long limbs. Vau gave him a look; half annoyance and half accedence, letting him know that he was doing a poor job of hiding those speculations. Skirata indulged himself with an arrogant smirk of his own as Walon stalked to the door.

Vhonte Tervho was waiting on the other side with the missing strill. Mird immediately leapt at Vau with a series of delighted growls and moans, sniffing at him enthusiastically. With all of the noise Skirata could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation between the Vau and Tervho. He did manage to gather that Mird had been enticed to accompany her on a brief hunting trip to one of the other stilt-cities the day before.

That made him wonder again just what exactly had been Vau's motivation and how planned out this encounter had actually been. He was still pondering when the other man returned to the room after concluding his business with Vhonte. Skirata nearly asked him but stopped himself when he saw the strange, embarrassed scowl on the other man's face. He decided he was uncomfortable enough with the situation and that some details were better left murky. It would be bad enough when or if his memory of the night before surfaced.

Vau returned to nearly the same place on the floor he had occupied before their interruption; legs shoulder width apart and weight thrown slightly forward as though he were expecting and attack. Not an unjustified assumption Skirata thought ruefully. Mird sat just inside the door way looking from its master to the smaller man with an expression almost as bewildered as Skirata felt. He cleared his throat too loudly as the silence between them stretched uncomfortably.

-Where…ah…um…where exactly is my beskar'gam?

His gut clenched again as he was forced to ask the question; no self respecting Mandalorian lost track of their armor no matter how…distracting the circumstances.

-I stacked it in the utility closet in the front room when I got up. I didn't think you'd want to risk anyone seeing it here.

Why did Vau sound a bit dejected? Skirata decided once again that he had no desire to know. He nodded briskly. After a brief stop in at the 'fresher to address his original problem he tired not to seem too hurried as he made for the closet.

Once he was back in his armor he paused and looked back toward the bedroom. Vau was squatting down rubbing and tugging at the copious wattles around Mird's neck. He was frowning absently despite the strill's grunting pleasure. Skirata swallowed hard, twice, before finally managing to form the words.

-Vor'e: For looking out for my armor. Vau didn't look up, only nodded and continued playing with the strill. Skirata took that as his cue to leave. Just as he was stepping into the corridor, however, Vau called after him.

-I expect you to return my pants shortly ner vod.

Skirata spun, mortified and enraged but there was no one else in the corridor to hear and the door to Vau's quarters slid shut before he could respond. He stood gaping at the closed door for a moment before he turned on his heel and stalked away toward the mess hall and the day's waiting training. He would be damned to the bowels of Corellia's foulest hell before he would ever give Vau that kind of power over him again.

 

**412 days after Geonosis**

Skirata woke up on his stomach with his legs tingling uncomfortably from lack of circulation. Something was pinning them in an uncomfortable position. Struggling up onto his left elbow he looked to see what the object was and swore.

-Shabla osik, not again.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the awful puns there near the end by the way but I was tired and, honestly, I can't come up with a better way to rework those sentences. I also apologize to any Mandalorian purists who dislike any mistakes I unknowingly made with the fictional "language" or armor details.


End file.
